alised how much it meant to him to
live once more among his own people. He looked back on the three years
he had spent in Apia as exile, and returned to the life that seemed the
only normal one with a sigh of relief. It was good to play golf once
more, and to fish--to fish properly, that was poor fun in the Pacific
when you just threw in your line and pulled out one big sluggish fish
after another from the crowded sea--and it was good to see a paper every
day with that day's news, and to meet men and women of your own sort,
people you could talk to; and it was good to eat meat that was not
frozen and to drink milk that was not canned. They were thrown upon
their own resources much more than in the Pacific, and he was glad to
have Ethel exclusively to himself. After two years of marriage he loved
her more devotedly than ever, he could hardly bear her out of his sight,
and the need in him grew urgent for a more intimate communion between
them. But it was strange that after the first excitement of arrival she
seemed to take less interest in the new life than he had expected. She
did not accustom herself to her surroundings. She was a little
lethargic. As the fine autumn darkened into winter she complained of the
cold. She lay half the morning in bed and the rest of the day on a sofa,
reading novels sometimes, but more often doing nothing. She looked
pinched.

"Never mind, darling," he said. "You'll get used to it very soon. And
wait till the summer comes. It can be almost as hot as in Apia."

He felt better and stronger than he had done for years.

The carelessness with which she managed her house had not mattered in
Samoa, but here it was out of place. When anyone came he did not want
the place to look untidy; and, laughing, chaffing Ethel a little, he set
about putting things in order. Ethel watched him indolently. She spent
long hours playing with her son. She talked to him in the baby language
of her own country. To distract her, Lawson bestirred himself to make
friends among the neighbours, and now and then they went to little
parties where the ladies sang drawing-room ballads and the men beamed in
silent good nature. Ethel was shy. She seemed to sit apart. Sometimes
Lawson, seized with a sudden anxiety, would ask her if she was happy.

"Yes, I'm quite happy," she answered.

But her eyes were veiled by some thought he could not guess. She seemed
to withdraw into herself so that he was conscious that he knew no mor